Star Wars: The Ektomine Saga
by Primal171
Summary: Two aliens, desperate to escape their miserable lives, travel to the Outer Rim planet of Ektomine, looking for an escape from the Empire. They are soon caught in the middle of a hunt for a mysterious force artifact, and many are willing to kill to get their hands on it.


Chapter 1

Welcome to Ektomine

The Empire reigns. Imperial conquest is brutal and endless, forcing the last Separatist holdouts into submission. Citizens of the former republic, humans at least, have not felt their lives overturned, but dissenting worlds are punished harshly. The Senate is giving way to the Moffdom, and the last hopes of freedom are at the edges of known space. Batuu, Tatooine, Hoth and other outer rim planets have become a refuge for criminals, rebels, and most importantly, aliens. Relegated to the galaxy's dens of scum and villainy, alien refugees are desperate to outrun the Empire, and avoid being worked to death in the thousands of Imperial slave camps.

"Who's up for a game of sabacc? I brought cards."

"I've been waiting for someone to say that. How much do you wanna wager?"

"Thirty credits, tops. I'm as broke as a Trade Federation investor."

"Welcome to the club. I was a Trade Federation investor."

Figrin D'an and Kreeduk huddled over a fanfar case they used as a sabacc table. The hull of the ship was hot with the collective body heat of over three hundred impoverished passengers. The ship itself was a converted cargo freighter teeming with petty criminals, unsuccessful bounty hunters, alien refugees, failing artists, spice dealers and addicts alike. No wonder the place was unpleasant.

"Damnit! You're cheating! You Bith, always thinking you're better than everyone else."

"If I thought I was better than you, why do you think I would be playing you in a game of sabacc?"

"Take a look at yourself, I doubt you've got two hundred credits to your name!"

"I'll have you know, you always let out a low-pitched hum when you've got a good hand!"

"Of course you'd hear that! You're a Bith!"

"Anyway, If we split up, we could get shanked, or worse... caught by the Empire."

"If there were stormtroopers on this ship, I would have noticed, and if you're talking about sticking together after we get off, don't even think about it. It's your fault ya didn't bring a blaster."

"Whatever you say, pal,"

Figrin and Kreeduk sat in silence, neither one continuing the sabacc game that lay unattended in front of them. The ship dipped towards its destination, the only sign of an impending landing in the windowless cabin. Bags lurched forward as the ship approached the ground. The vessel fired its landing thrusters, steadying itself as it touched down on the landing pad. Dozens of passengers poured out of the ship as the landing ramps were lowered. At the landing pad's gates, a faded sign read "Welcome to Ektomine", no doubt a relic from when this desert world was an exotic escape from the norm, where ordinary citizens of the old republic could live like adventurers, that was before the Clone Wars, before the Empire.

Figrin D'an and Kreeduk were the last to exit the ship, still tense from the argument. They left in relative tandem, neither wanting to look petty. As they left the landing field, Kreeduk saw a shadow coming from a dark alley. He put his hand on his blaster, preparing for a firefight. Figrin slid out of the way of a blaster bolt as the mysterious figure fired a heavy blaster. Kreeduk fired three consecutive shots in return, all missing.

"You shoot like a drunk stormtrooper!" Figrin yelled.

The figure lurched forward, exposing his reptilian features.

"We've got a Trandoshan Trophy Hunter on our hands!" Kreeduk called out to Figrin. After hearing the news, Figrin got down onto the ground, opened up his suitcase and pulled out a fanfar. He put his mouth onto the instrument and blew into it. At that moment the Trandoshan retreated into the alley.

"Get away before he gets back on his feet!" Figrin yelled.

The two ran through the city streets, zigzagging at all the intervals they could. They ran deep into a bazaar, trying to get lost in the crowd. Finally feeling safe, the two stopped, trying to catch their breath.

"On one hand, Trandoshans are biologically ideal hunters with an acute sense of hearing, on the other hand, that sense of hearing can lead to being especially sensitive to an out of tune fanfar."

"You're not completely useless...are you?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Don't let it go to your head."

...

"I know you have much better ways to spend your time, but this is a very important mission. Lately, I have been researching the ancient Je'daii Order, an organization that existed prior to the formation of the Old Republic. There are many artifacts tied to their legacy, many of which collectors like me would kill to get their hands on. There is one artifact that seems to have certain...hidden attributes. It is called the Scythe of Ektomine. Its history is unknown, but from what I could find, it may have ties to the Celestials, possibly an entity I'm researching known as Abeloth. Whatever it is, it has been shrouded in mystery for millennia. If it were to be found, this could prove the legends true. If this is real, who can say what else is? An entire era of galactic history, denied of its authenticity by modern scholars, may finally receive the coverage it deserves! If you can find the relic, I will pay you handsomely."

Dok Ondar finished his speech, stretching out his hand to seal the deal. IG-88 stared lifelessly back, perhaps sizing up the Ithorian shopkeeper. He shook his hand, never moving his gaze away from Dok Ondar's eyes. Before he left, IG-88 made one remark,

"I will not hold back."


End file.
